Page 9 of Staff of Nightfall

“I wish you were.” Belanger stood, his eyebrows knitting together. He left without another word. Regulus looked to Adelaide, but she shook her head. So he looked to Lady Belanger, but she was staring at the open doorway, looking equally bewildered. She must have felt him looking, because her gaze cut to him. Regulus’ chest tightened. That look was not promising. She muttered something under her breath in Khast.

“Mother!” Adelaide’s eyes widened. She responded in Khast, her words rushed and offended. He looked desperately between them, trying to determine what they had said. Based on the ruddy tone in Adelaide’s cheeks and the shock in her eyes, plus the judgmental scowl Lady Belanger was giving him, something unfavorable toward him.

Lord Belanger returned carrying a framed canvas as big as his torso with the back toward them. He set it on an armchair and stepped aside. Regulus’ blood froze and his mouth fell open. Adelaide’s grip on his hand tightened. He blinked at the painting.

A man who at first glance might have been the sorcerer, except he wore a black doublet, a red cape, and a gold crown. And on closer inspection, he didn’t look that much like him. This man was kinder and younger, with a wider nose and blue eyes. But the man in the painting and the sorcerer could be...no.

“Please tell me that’s not what I think it is,” Adelaide said. Her fingers dug into his palm.

“It’s the portrait I had commissioned of His Royal Majesty King Gawain a few months ago.” Belanger sighed. “And your faces answer my question. He bears a resemblance to this sorcerer.”

Regulus’ mind spun. The sorcerer prince. The king’s elder brother, born a mage. As per Monparth’s laws in agreement with an ancient treaty with the surrounding kingdoms, his magic prohibited him from inheriting the throne. The prince who, as the story went, disappeared before returning as a sorcerer and trying to murder his own parents. What was his name?

“The sorcerer prince was killed,” Adelaide breathed. “King Olfan said he died.”

“And King Gawain told me in confidence that the mages sent after his brother wounded him, but he escaped. He doesn’t know if his brother is dead. King Olfan often wondered if his son was behind the Shadow. But he couldn’t very well admit that.” Belanger looked at the painting and tapped his hand against his leg.

Regulus wanted to look away from the portrait, but his horror left him frozen, staring at this kinder version of the monster he had served.

“I assured the king it seemed unlikely. Years without so much as a whisper, surely he was dead,” Belanger continued. “But a sorcerer of the correct age, claiming to be a prince, who you both clearly think bears at least a passing resemblance to the king...” He sighed and shook his head. “And there’s more.”

Regulus glanced at Adelaide, his nervousness and discomfort rising. Her eyes mirrored his panic.

“When Kirven tried to kill King Olfan and Queen Gwyneth, may they rest in peace, he told them he would take Monparth if he had to burn it to the ground. Even if it meant he would be a king of nothing but ash.” He drew his lips into a hard, thin line.

His words hung in the air like smoke trapped in a room without a chimney.Shadow and Ash. Death and destruction.Regulus pushed off the couch as the world swayed. He leaned on the arm of the couch as his stomach seized and his hands shook.

“No. No, it can’t be.” Regulus shook his head. He pushed his sleeves up over his elbows, trying to cool down. The fireplace still stood empty, but he could have sworn he was standing near a raging inferno. “He can’t be...that would mean...”

Treason. He’d aided a man who had tried to kill the king. And if he had tried once, now that he had a weapon designed to destroy... Words failed him, and he dropped to his knees with a strangled cry of anguish and rested his feverish face against the side of the couch.

“Oh, Etiros. What have I done?”

“The Staff...” Adelaide’s voice resounded in his head like a gong as he fought the panic strangling him. “He said he searched for the pieces for decades. That’s all he was waiting for. He wants to kill the king. He is going to take Monparth by force.”

“We have to warn the king.” Regulus stood, even though his legs shook. “I have to. He gathered all the pieces because of me.”

“Hm.” The new voice startled him, and Regulus spun toward the sound. Carrick stood in the doorway, arms crossed, leaning his shoulder against the frame. “Aren’t you all—”

Regulus didn’t wait for him to finish his thought. His anger from earlier returned full force, shocking him out of his stupor.

“You!” He charged at Carrick, angling his shoulder to slam into Carrick’s chest. Carrick straightened and braced his hands against Regulus’ shoulders. Regulus squinted in confusion as Carrick pushed back like Regulus was a weak, unruly child. With force that threatened to snap his clavicles, Carrick shoved. Regulus’ heel caught on the rug and he teetered. Had he really lost this much strength and stamina when the sorcerer removed the mark? He straightened as Carrick kicked him in the ribs. The impact felt more like a battering ram than a boot.

Pain exploded across his ribs and he fell onto his back. The back of his head slammed onto the floor, the rug doing little to cushion the blow. Adelaide shouted his name. He couldn’t suck in a breath. His right lung ached behind his injured ribs. The tightness and pain likely meant one thing. They were cracked.

“As I wassaying.” Carrick closed the door and pulled down the bookshelf next to it to barricade the door. “Aren’t you all clever. Well done, Lord Belanger.” He applauded sarcastically as Regulus finally drew in a full breath. “But I can’t let you warn His Majesty.”

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